


fix you with my love

by Crazyloststar



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Post-Canon, Post-Game(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:15:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22029934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazyloststar/pseuds/Crazyloststar
Summary: “It seems unfair, doesn't it?”The words break him, unexpectedly. This time, Prompto's sob is way too loud to try to play it off or pretend Ignis didn’t hear, despite how he nearly shoves the worn pillowcase into his mouth.***written for the FFXV Book Club Server Gift Exchange
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 11
Kudos: 84
Collections: 2019 Holiday Exchange





	fix you with my love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [denilmo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/denilmo/gifts).



> Happy holidays! Sorry for the sads!! <3

It’s the warmth on Prompto's skin that wakes him up, pillow curled up in his arms under his head. It’s almost too hot on the arm that’s in the direct sunbeam sneaking through the blinds. 

He can't remember the last time he felt so warm. Not without the help of layers and layers of blankets or coats tossed on top of him, or bodies pressed close for heat. Towards the end of the ten years, even in Lestallum the nights had grown chilly. 

Prompto stretches a little under the sun’s presence. He revels in the feeling as he arches his back and lets out a small sigh. 

...Noct...

A sob escapes Prompto’s lips before he can stop it as everything that’s happened in the last few days rushes back to him. He buries his head into the pillow. Takes a long, deep breath like he’s practiced the last few years to help calm his mind at night. But really, it's too late to muffle the aftershocks of whimpers in their small bunker near the Kingsglaive headquarters. 

Warm, long fingers stretch across his bare shoulder blades still under the covers. 

Prompto can't bring himself to speak. He thinks maybe he can pretend he isn’t awake, pass off his reactions as part of a nightmare he has yet to wake from. It’s not like it would be the first time Ignis has had to deal with that. They all have their nightmares. 

Ignis of Altissia. Prompto of Zegnatus. Gladio of the Tempering Grounds. 

And now they could all add the Citadel to that list. 

He does want to go back to sleep, though. Prompto feels it in his bones. He hadn't slept before their final battle, in the days they had traveled through the streets of Insomnia, nerves too high to do more than sit with his eyes shut for the briefest of moments. And also knowing it would be his last moments with Noct, he hadn’t wanted to waste a single moment...

And then after the dust had settled, and the sun had risen... 

All he sees whenever he closes his eyes had been Noct, finally sitting on the throne, but not as he had thought he would see his best friend... 

And for a split second he had felt the sun and somehow forgotten what it had taken to feel that. Had enjoyed it. He feels like the world’s biggest asshole. He clings to his pillow tight. 

“Prompto, love,” Ignis’s voice breaks a little. He isn't sure if it's because he's also still half asleep, or because he's having the same thoughts as Prompto. It could also be both. 

Prompto is still debating if he should pretend to be asleep or not. But his guilt wins out, because if anyone understands what he’s going through, it’s Ignis. 

That doesn’t mean he’s ready to talk about it, though. “I’m fine.” He mumbles into the pillow. 

Those fingers dig into his skin gently, move in soothing circles where they rest. “We finally slept it seems.”

It’s obvious Ignis is avoiding the garula in the room. He doesn’t mind it. Prompto rolls his head into the pillow, more to try to remove evidence of his crying than anything else. “Ya. Feel like I was run over by an iron giant, though.” 

The hand flattens against his back. “It's pretty close to what happened, so that makes sense.” 

Prompto sighs. “Sorry, Iggy. I didn't mean to wake you. You should sleep more while you can. People will come knocking on our door soon I’m sure.” 

There’s a part of Prompto hoping Ignis will let it go, that he will go back to sleep and leave Prompto to lie there with his thoughts. There's no reason for them both to be a mess, is there? 

They stay where they lie in silence. The hand on his back hasn’t moved again. Prompto is hopeful Ignis has dozed off once more. 

“It seems unfair, doesn't it?” 

The words break him, unexpectedly. This time, Prompto's sob is way too loud to try to play it off or pretend Ignis didn’t hear, despite how he nearly shoves the worn pillowcase into his mouth. 

“I know, love. I know.”

He lets out another rough, jagged breath. Ignis slides his hand up his spine and drags fingers along his hairline at the base of his head. They rest like that for some time - Prompto loses track of how long because he’s just focused on trying to breath, to fight off another wave of panic that has been plaguing him since the dawn returned. He wants to keep it together, to stay strong, but it’s just so hard because he also wants to mourn the greatest loss he’s ever felt. 

At least when Noctis was in the crystal, Prompto believed he would return. Even as the years had dragged on, there was hope. 

When Prompto finally moves, it’s so he can face Ignis as he reluctantly opens his eyes. Ignis’s hair sticks up in some places from sleeping with product in it, while some parts have loosened up and lay flat on his forehead. Prompto knows the story of most of the scars on his skin, except the one that stands out in stark contrast from the others across his left eye. Prompto’s never pushed to know the truth, but he hopes that one day, Ignis will tell him more. 

Pressed together in the small twin bed they’ve been allotted, he knows Ignis can make out his familiar presence, the rough outline of his body, with his right eye. 

Prompto blinks. He sniffles. Ignis runs his fingers through Prompto's hair, lets his fingers slide down Prompto’s jaw. He scratches at the goatee idly. Prompto can’t help a small smile at the feeling of it. He remembers when Ignis first felt the hairs on his chin when they kissed, after a several months apart. 

“He should be here.” Prompto finally says. It’s hard to say out loud. He’s honestly surprised he manages it. But that’s the thing about Ignis - he somehow always gives a bit of his strength to Prompto no matter what demons he is battling with himself. 

Ignis leans forward. He presses a kiss to Prompto's forehead. Nose. Mouth. 

Prompto isn't sure if the tears he tastes on his lips are his own or not. Or both of theirs. He decides not to question it. He pushes forward to deepen their kiss. 

They haven't been together like this in months, even just in the same space, without the threat of dying weighing heavy on their shoulders. They had been apart while Prompto assisted hunters, and Ignis was in Lestallum. Then they got the call about Noctis. They hadn’t really had time to catch up when they joined in Hammerhead. 

There had been other priorities. They hadn’t even needed to discuss it, upon seeing each other. 

But even now, with Ignis here and the world saved, Prompto can't help the feeling of guilt surging through his veins at the idea that he is lying there feeling the sun’s warmth while his best friend is out there, buried in the cold tombs of the kings. Alone. 

Prompto slows. Ignis presses against his lips once more before pulling away and sighing. Prompto squeezes his eyes shut. 

Noctis would be punching him in the arm if he could, telling him not to sacrifice his own happiness like this. They were alive, they could feel the sun. They should enjoy it. 

But it was so hard, he wants to say. 

Prompto thinks back to all the things that have been hard in his life. And maybe, just maybe, being happy in this new dawn could be the hardest. If he doesn’t try though, what was Noct’s sacrifice for? 

Maybe that is what would make him an asshole, a shitty friend, is not making the best of this shitty situation. 

He slides his hand up Ignis’s firm chest. Lets his fingers drag at the soft cloth of his thin shirt. Unseeing eyes widen as Prompto slides forward before he can think too much more of it. Their arms circle around each other as they kiss once more, and Prompto is pulled so he's on top of Ignis, their hips pressing against each other through thin pajama pants.

So much runs through Prompto's mind as he looks down on the man he loves - he’s missed Ignis, he misses Noctis, he misses life before it all went to hell, he misses the apartment he and Ignis shared in Lestallum even though they hardly spent time together in it. He misses video games in Noct’s apartment. Late nights with all four of them eating pizza and watching shitty movies. 

He misses a time that no longer exists. That they can never get back. 

But he has the heat of Ignis’s skin under him now, and the warmth of the sun on his back. It encourages him as they shed clothes and move hands around each other’s bodies, as they push and pull against each other, as they taste each other’s breath. They don’t need words, because after all they’ve been through the one constant has been one another, their bodies mapped out like constellations in the sky.

And when they’ve both come down from their high and Prompto is draped across Ignis’s chest, he can’t stop pressing his lips to the warm skin above his heart reverently. 

Warm. He’s truly warm, for the first time in years. And he’s thankful for what he has. 

Eventually he falls back to sleep, more easily than he has since before the darkness came.


End file.
